In Her Eyes by Sarah Alderson (ebook reader for pc and android TXT) 📕

There was nothing going on – I hadn’t done anything wrong – so why was I feeling so guilty? I think it’s because from the moment I saw Nate again I’ve been feeling a low-level hum of electricity coursing through me; a buzz that emanates around my belly button as if a swarm of bees have set up a hive in there. And it’s been a long while since I’ve felt that kind of charge with anyone. Of course I’d had that with Robert – back before we had three children and conversations turned from what we wanted to do to each other to what we wanted the other to do about the washing up or the mess they’d made in the kitchen.

I should have said no. I shouldn’t have replied. But I did. Robert’s been locked in his study for what feels like months, never present even when he is and, truthfully, reaching forty has sucked.

After picking up Gene from the police station Hannah insisted on going shopping, as we’d intended, so I drove her to Santa Barbara. Walking down State Street with her, I realized that I was invisible. Everyone was looking at her. I was prepared for the menopause but not this. It’s too soon. There have been no warning signs. I’ve been shoved over the line from visible to invisible without even the chance to protest.

You don’t realize how much you’ve spent your life being validated by the male gaze until that gaze bounces right off you and lands on your daughter. And while the feminist in you rears up in anger that you’ve allowed that gaze to define you and your worth, nonetheless you feel a jealous little stab in your gut.

As we walked, every male eye snagged on Hannah as if she was magnetized. She wasn’t oblivious, far from it. She tossed her hair over her shoulder and swayed her hips and strolling beside her I felt a sharp pang. It’s not that I wanted to be her, but I envied the choices and the opportunities she had in front of her. Life was a runway and she was strutting down it with a confidence I had never had at her age and still didn’t possess. And now I knew I never would.

It’s not an excuse but it’s where I was at when Nate texted me. Suddenly I was visible again.

As I walk towards him I notice he’s wearing a pair of jeans and a black sweater with a little star logo on it which makes me wonder if it’s something off-duty Sheriffs wear. It reminds me of his football sweater back in high school and how he used to wear it even after he graduated, as though it was a badge of honor.

‘Hi,’ I say nervously as I reach him.

He leans forwards and kisses me on the cheek and I feel a flurry of butterflies. I tell myself to stop being stupid.

‘You look great,’ he says, appraising me.

Oh God. I immediately fluster and warm under his gaze.

‘Thanks,’ I stammer.

‘You want some dinner?’ he asks before I’ve had a chance to sit. ‘I just got off duty and I’m starving.’

‘OK,’ I say, and he grabs his jacket and ushers me towards the door.

As we walk onto the street I find myself glancing around, worried that someone might see me. It’s Ventura, which is a bigger town than Ojai, but even so I know a lot of people. There’s nothing illicit about two old friends going for a bite to eat though. At least that’s what I tell myself. But then why do I feel so nervous, like I’m doing something wrong?

Nate leads me around the corner to a quiet little Italian restaurant, nothing romantic, but not too pedestrian either. There are candles on the table but a couple of boisterous families seated beside us, and I glance around to make sure I don’t recognize anyone. Nate pulls out my chair and I remember he was always a gentleman. He summons the waiter and orders wine and, quickly checking that it’s OK with me, orders for both of us, telling me he’s a regular and that I won’t be sorry.

After the first sip of wine I start to relax. There’s a lot to catch up on: June’s illness, Hannah’s academic success, our inability to shoehorn Gene out of the house, how much Hannah and Gene fight, my mom’s long, drawn-out death and my dad’s sudden one, Nate’s failed marriage to Kathy, a cosmetologist from Kentucky whom he married in a shotgun wedding when she fell pregnant nineteen days after they first met at a casino.

He grins at me, his blue eyes flashing, and I shuffle a little in my seat, feeling awkward under his gaze. My own keeps dropping to his lips, remembering the first time he kissed me, remembering too the first time we slept together, the first orgasm he ever gave me.

‘How about you?’ he asks, jolting me out of my memories.

‘What?’ I reply.

He studies me, a half smile on his face. ‘Are you happily married?’

It’s such a direct question that immediately I start to stammer. ‘Yes, I mean . . . for over twenty years, I guess . . .’ I tail off. Nate’s still eyeing me with a curious smile, and now an arched eyebrow.

‘Twenty years? You got married in college then?’

‘Actually, I dropped out to get married and have Hannah.’

‘Wow,’ he says. ‘Twenty years, that’s a long time. You’re not bored?’ The look in his eye is testing, inviting and I feel a response in the deepest part of my core, a little spark of life. I shake my head, looking down at my plate. I feel disloyal to Robert. I should be announcing loud and clear how happy I am, how satisfied . . . but I can’t. And when I look up at Nate I feel a kick in my chest as my heart bangs against my ribs and a jolt of adrenaline rushes through me. I